


Four In The Morning

by tiptopevak



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptopevak/pseuds/tiptopevak
Summary: He’s cold. Dizzy. And his lips stain Even with the sting of blue-raspberry vodka.





	Four In The Morning

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ [tiptopevak.tumblr.com](https://tiptopevak.tumblr.com/post/171067289852/read-it-on-ao3-four-in-the-morning-frost-of-oslo) !

Four-in-the-morning frost of Oslo air nipping icy at their heels - and they kiss quiet in the empty heart of a deserted street. 

Even’s fingers stroke softly the golden halo of Isak’s messy curls. 

“Tired?” 

Tipping his chin up, “No,” and he noses gentle along the sharp line of Even’s jaw. 

A few feet ahead, their friends stumble on towards home - kaleidoscope flock of clinking beer bottles and the tail-end of party songs. Wandering tipsy down the sleepy street, with the noise dragging lazy behind them like the skirt of a scarf. 

A smile tugs up the corner of Even’s lips. He dusts it to the cherry-red apple of Isak’s cheek, asks with his mouth pressed there, “Cold?” 

Isak tilts a breath into the affection - and nods. 

Even’s shoulders shrug his cottony jacket off over his wrists. He curls it careful around Isak, slips the buttons into their loops all the way to the very tip top. 

There, he says, so quiet, “All done,” and his fingers slip away as Isak nuzzles his nose down into the nest of fabric. Breathes in the scent of snowflakes and  _Even_ , and lets his long lashes dip low. 

As he watches, the smile opens easy across Even’s lips.

“C’mere,” in a whisper. And he tucks an arm around Isak as they trail away behind their friends, folds him in small and safe against his side. 

He’s cold. Dizzy. And his lips stain Even with the sting of blue-raspberry vodka. 

But he kisses him melting and slow like the taste brings him home. 


End file.
